


In One Basket

by Shhnikeys (Schnikeys)



Series: A Good Egging On [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Interchangeable Exo Mods, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Soon...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-07-26 00:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schnikeys/pseuds/Shhnikeys
Summary: Vansis, formerly of House Exile, has managed to escape the clutches of the Hive through the extremely fortuitous intervention of a Guardian.Of course, she's still full of Hive, and as far as she can tell, the ritual isn't complete.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the good ending to Hive Egg MagicTM! Let's wish our heroines good luck, shall we?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Reference to recent sexual assault

Vansis’s plating is getting pinched by the Titan Given’s grip around her knees, but somehow it doesn’t seem like a good time to complain.

The Given’s got her tucked up in its arms, somehow keeping her held securely even though it’s, like, a forearm shorter than her. Right now, it’s crouched against a wall next to a corner, clearly listening for something, heedless of the barnacles scraping its armor. Vansis strains to hear. Nothing - no, Hive chittering. Several hallways away, judging by the echo. Vansis shifts uneasily, and the Given turns its blank helmet to face her.

“<What?>” she asks, offended in some absurd way.

It looks at her, and then away. Vansis isn’t actually sure if it knows what she’s saying. Can it intuit her body language? How similar is it, between species?

She’s trying to think of anything else besides the dull throbbing of her body, and it’s not really working. 

The Given abruptly stands, and Vansis barely stifles a hiss at how it jars her myriad of aches. It looks at her again.

“<‘m fine,>” Vansis says gruffly. Not super believable when she’s being carried around like a swooning bed-pet, but there was an attempt.

It stares at her some more, then looks away. If this were a different situation, Vansis would probably be cringing at the awkwardness. As it is, she’s cringing because she can smell the fluids dripping out of her all over the Given’s arm.

There’s only the briefest of warnings in the form of the Given pulling its limbs in before it lunges forward in a dead run, squeezing a startled squeak out of Vansis. Machine, Given can move _fast_ while holding things. It’s like riding a pike from the front. Sideways.

They round a corner and Vansis sees a split-second glimpse of a group of Thralls in worship, but before the ether can even halt in her throat, the Given charges forward with a crackle of Light, and Vansis clutches the Titan with all four hands as ash scatters around them. 

They’re through in less than a dozen heart-pounding seconds. Vansis closes her eyes. Tries to focus on the slight jolt of the Given’s footsteps, the press of its armor against her plating, the slight smell of Arc discharge, instead of - the spell-fog leaking away from her mind, the throbbing remnants of arousal between her legs, the awful sloshing in her gut -

The Given comes to a stop suddenly, and Vansis uncurls slightly. She opens her mouth to smell the air, and the hastily reclasped rebreather mask falls right off her face and into her soiled lap. Vansis stares at it for a good five seconds before mustering the energy to fumble it back on. The Given doesn’t comment.

Once she actually gets her mask back on, Vansis scents the air - methane. Methane! They’re near the surface. The Given found the surface.

It’s getting brighter too, and the Given inches a little ways further up the hallway before stopping, hesitating. It looks at Vansis again.

“< _What?_ >” She asks, a little annoyed.

It gently dips the arm under her legs, and Vansis suddenly gets it. “<Oh! Uh.>” Her feet touch the ground, trembling with exertion. “<Th...ank? You?>”

The Given scratches the back of its head. That tells Vansis absolutely nothing.

Vansis does manage to stand up on her own, briefly, even though her knees are shaking like a dreg before the kell. The Given releases her arms, she tries to take a step, and nearly faceplants into a clump of barnacles. Firm, stocky little hands with too many fingers prop her up by the chest.

“<Thanks,>” she whispers to the barnacles. This is horrible. This is _horrible_.

She keeps two hands clamped on the Given’s arm as they make their way up the hallway, and as they emerge onto the surface of a rig she squints and blinks - bright, _very_ bright.

The Given makes a sound, and Vansis turns to see it holding out a hand, pointing with a finger.

Vansis follows that finger and sees Dusk-bannered eliksni. 

She only realizes her knees have collapsed when the impact of her ass hitting the ground rattles up her abdomen. Her mind is whirling in panicked circles, too paralyzed to react when the Given squats down next to her making high pitched noises.

It tugs at her shoulder, then her arm, but Vansis doesn’t react - did they see her? It’s been a while since she got… waylaid, Vansis isn’t sure how long, but a while. The Captain must know. What will he figure out if she comes back like this?

She’s filled with Hive. What will that do to her crew?

More high pitched noises from the Given, then silence for a little bit. Then a grinding noise.

“<You...to go? You go?>” Vansis straightens up so fast her abdomen aches and whips her head around to stare at the Given.

“<Great Machine, your voice is weird,>” Vansis blurts.

The Given’s visor tells her nothing. It points in the direction of the other eliksni again. “<To go? To them?>” Its voice is high-pitched and oddly modulated, the tone all wrong.

Vansis realizes what it’s asking and shouts “<NO!>” so loudly that the Given actually leans back. Vansis claps a hand over her mask.

“<Them,>” it says, almost tentatively, “<...succor?>”

“<Wh - succor?>” Vansis says blankly. The hell kind of translation is the Given using? 

“<Help,>” it amends. “<Them help? You?>” 

“< _No_ ,>” Vansis hisses again. “<No.>” The intricacies of her crew’s situation probably wouldn’t even translate. “<I need to stay away. Far away. What would they even do?>”

This hadn’t come up in Exile before. Usually, if they'd managed to retrieve someone from the Hive alive, death was a mercy.

Might still be, Vansis thinks. But - no. No, the Hive power their rituals with death. She was probably supposed to die. Nausea bubbles up as her claws scrape across her belly plating. So, the ritual probably...isn’t complete.

“<Where - where to go?>” The Given’s voice breaks back through her thoughts. It points at her, then holds its arms bent to the sides and turns its head.

“<...Dunno.>” Oh, our god, she doesn’t know what to do.

_How long will you forget us, our god?_

“<Thought,>” The Given says, shifting on its feet. “<Want far away where?>”

Vansis squints, trying to parse that, before carefully saying “<...Yes?>”

The Given stands up and offers a hand to Vansis. She stares at it for a second, then wraps her fingers around its gauntlet. She tries to pull herself up to her feet and can’t.

There’s a pause while she bites back the frustration, then the Given crouches down next to her again, gesturing its arms in front of itself as if holding her.

“<Fine,>” Vansis mutters.

It scoops her up without comment - surprisingly gently, barely jarring her wounds. Vansis folds her arms over her front as the Given starts walking swiftly in a different direction, heading right for a Given-controlled portion of the rigs - well, of course, Vansis realizes.

Maybe it’s taking me to its compatriots, Vansis muses, trying to look anywhere but at the Given. The Thieves’ Vanguard has dealt with Hive problems before. They could probably - probably end this. Without triggering the ritual.

Vansis closes her eyes, feeling as though the ache in her gut has spread all the way to her heart. She’d barely even said goodbye.

The Given stops short, then abruptly moves under an overhang. Vansis looks around in alarm, but she doesn’t see anything.

“???” says the Given. Vansis squints. Oh. It’s getting a call.

It talks intermittently with whatever unheard Human is on the other end, then starts moving again, faster this time. Vansis tries to breathe somewhat evenly. She guesses it’ll take her to Siren’s Watch, probably. 

Instead, it skirts Siren’s Watch and trots towards an outshoot of buildings, towering and dilapidated on top of the rigging, but noticeably uninfested. The floor dips and sways as the Titan walks on, even more so than the rest of the rigs, and Vansis’s nausea overrides her embarrassment as she clutches its armored shoulder.

It drops through the floor, and so does Vansis’s stomach because it lands solidly on a metal walkway that’s all there is between them and the ocean.

“?” It says, and Vansis realizes her hand clamped even tighter on it.

“<‘m fine,>” she mutters again.

It looks at her for a moment longer before taking a running jump to fly over a gap in the walkway.

Vansis grimly keeps her mouth shut as the Given hops along the walkways with little puffing sounds. They’re far enough from the actual surface of the buildings that Vansis is starting to feel the artificial atmosphere and gravity waver, making her shiver in the cold.

“?” the Given says, looking at her mid-jump.

“<Eyes on the damn platform!>” Vansis barks, clutching its shoulder. The Given touches down without looking where it’s going, and Vansis rolls her eyes. “<Great, good job.>”

The Given pauses at the base of one of the massive pylons, face tilted up. Vansis barely manages to hoist her neck into looking up before the Given is squatting and leaping into the air to balance on a scrap of a walkway higher up.

“<Great,>” Vansis says, more weakly.

The Given hops up the massive pillar via precariously flimsy walkway scraps, and Vansis might have a head for heights but being carried up an unstable, ancient Human construction by a Given is really not fun. 

By the time the Given leaps through a hole in the pillar and floats in the air to maneuver delicately onto another crumbling walkway, Vansis is trembling and she’s not sure what out of many possible causes is the culprit. She’s fucking exhausted and her grip on the present is starting to get tenuous, chunks of the Given’s winding path up stairs and through doors are entirely missing from her memory -

The Given jostles her gently, and Vansis lifts her head. “???” it says, and Vansis realizes it was trying to get her attention.

Once Vansis is paying attention, the Given moves towards what looks like an airlock door before stopping short in front of it.

There’s a silence.

“<...What?>” Vansis asks, and the Given turns its face to her, then to the door, then just a little bit towards her. It shifts its weight back and forth.

“<What.>” Vansis snaps.

The Given dips its head, and a Spiritor flashes into existence at the shoulder opposite Vansis, zipping over to a panel next to the door and shining a beam of light (Light?) over it.

The door clunks open, and the Given is standing in the airlock before Vansis realizes what the delay was.

“<Oh come _on_ ,>” Vansis says, “<what the hell would I even be able to do to it?>” Vansis gestures at herself, highlighting the absurdity of the concern.

The Spiritor had been beaming something on the other side of the airlock, but it turns around once Vansis speaks.

The Given and Spiritor exchange looks.

“???” says the Given.

“???” replies the Spiritor.

“<For fuck’s sake,>” says Vansis, indescribably cranky.

The Spiritor turns its eye on her, and Vansis reflexively tries to straighten up but hisses in pain.

“Ah,” the Spiritor says, “<She ask what is you say.>”

“<You’re both terrible at Eliksni,>” Vansis complains.

The Spiritor spins its spikes. “<...Apology?>”

“<Tell it that I’m not actually an idiot, despite evidence to the contrary, and I am both not stupid enough to make a move on you, and unable to actually harm you. As related to said lack of stupidity.>” 

The Spiritor appears to take a minute to process this. “<Er,>” it says, “<only want to say, less likely of success is not stop your teammates often times.>”

“<I mean, yeah,>” Vansis grumbles.

“???” the Given says, but the second door clunks open.

The room beyond the airlock...Vansis has absolutely no guesses as to what it was for, but it’s relatively clean, for Titan. Tables, Human folding chairs, empty canisters. Wall of thick-paned grimy windows.

The arm beneath her legs dips again, and Vansis holds the Given’s shoulders as it puts her down. Batting its steadying hands away, she wobbles stubbornly along the wall, only just making it to a chair before her legs shake themselves to pieces.

It’s far too small, her knees coming up to her chest, but everything on this planet is teenager-sized anyways. Vansis wilts until her head hangs between her legs as she tries to get her breath back, but the stench is even stronger between her thighs, so she laboriously pulls herself upright to lean back precariously.

The Given moves and the sound makes Vansis crack her tired eyes open to stare at it.

“<What,>” she mumbles.

The Given awkwardly sweeps its arms out. “<Here good?>”

It takes Vansis a second to process. “<...Yeah. Great, actually.>” She pauses. “<...Thanks.>”

The Given pulls its shoulders towards its head, then releases them. “<You invited.>”

Vansis squints. “<What?>”

The Given pauses. “<Uh, you welcome?>”

“<Oh.>” Fucking hells, Vansis wants to sleep, but the concept of being unaware makes it feel like worms are crawling under her plating. And she’s hungry.

The Given shuffles in the corner and Vansis squints two eyes open again. It’s fiddling with something around its crotch -

Ah. Right. Damn. It pulls something matte and shaped like pelvic plating away and swaps it out for a different one. Vansis is too tired to parse what the hell it’s doing.

The Given turns around, shifts again. “<I, uh. Be back.>”

Vansis blinks dully.

“<Yes bye.>” And it slips out through the airlock.


	2. Chapter 2

Vansis floats in a weird foggy doze for an interminable amount of time, thoughts bubbling up and bursting, remnants dripping grime down the inside of her skull.

She has to get up at some point, she thinks dimly. If only to check her mask seal. Possibly replace her ether tank. Damn, how much ether does she even _have_ with her? Does death from thirst count, for the definitions of - of the ritual?

There’s a grinding sound from the airlock, and it takes Vansis a few moments to register the sound, and a few moments more to process it. By the time she forces her eyes open and struggles more upright, the second door has cycled open to reveal that Given.

Vansis stares. The Given lifts a hand haltingly, then puts it down again.

“<...I am back,>” it says.

“<Uh?>” replies Vansis, baffled.

It goes over to a table, then glances over at Vansis. “<Up?>”

Vansis stares a bit more, then looks around her for strategic supports. The Given moves and Vansis’s head snaps up to watch it warily.

“???” it says.

“<Fuck off,>” Vansis snaps, fumbling for another chair. As she wobbles on her feet, she reflects that her legs seem to be recovering better than her abdomen.

The Given shuffles backward slightly as she grimly makes her way to the table.

“<So?>” Vansis glares at the still-very-dangerous Given because the Wizard apparently liquified her brain with that needle permanently. “<What?>”

The Given shuffles some more, then drops a bunch of high-fidelity engrams on the table.

“<Uh,>” Vansis says.

The Given decrypts them, and Vansis stares. “<That’s the gun I had,>” she says blankly. And the dagger. And the helmet. She looks up at the Given, who’s still looking at her. The Given stares back.

Vansis looks back down. A full storage pack of nutrient paste tubes, and a medium tank of ether.

Vansis squeezes her eyes shut. No. No. Even if she’s some, some kind of quarantine prisoner of the Given now, she can’t - she can’t - she wouldn’t have _cared_ about some random stranger getting cracked because they got in the way of a Given before she joined the Captain’s crew, but -

The Given leans forward to peer at her, and Vansis tries to say something, but only a broken grinding sound comes out. 

“???” the Given says, then starts fumbling at its head.

“<The hell’re you ->” Vansis mumbles, but the Given’s helmet comes off and transmats away.

Vansis’s eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of her skull.

The machine Given - the _machine_ \- its bright red eyes dart around, gaps in its cheeks lit orange as its mouth works. Vansis feels vaguely, reflexively blasphemous for having been cursing at it.

(Rahnsis will be so mad that she didn’t get to see this, Vansis thinks faintly. Or - would be.)

“<Not ->” The Given speaks, twitching its hands in circles, “<not take from dead.>” It sweeps a hand over the table.

A pause, while Vansis absorbs this. Her eyes narrow. “<How’d you get them, then?>”

The Given shuffles again, then mimes pushing her over and stealing her belt.

“<You - you _mugged_ them? >” Vansis asks incredulously.

“<...Yes.>”

Vansis bursts out laughing. “<What the _fuck_ ,>” she wheezes, “<you could’ve just been bullying us out of our glimmer all along?>”

The Given’s eyes flicker. Vansis bends over, she’s laughing so hard. Her stomach aches horribly, the laughter yanking at her insides.

Out of the corner of her eyes, the Given squats down next to her, red eyes searching.

“<Go away,>” Vansis whispers breathlessly. Its gaze burns, she doesn’t want to be _seen_ right now.

“<Will go,>” the Given finally says. “<But...will be back?>”

Vansis squeezes her eyes shut. “<Fine. Fine! Whatever.>”

It places something else on the table before it clomps out. Vansis doesn’t move for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The Guardian comes back with supplies. Vansis assumes the Guardian has killed other eliksni to get the supplies, but in reality, the Guardian just mugged them. Vansis starts laughing hysterically and asks the Guardian to go away, and the Guardian obliges.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: mild flashback nightmare, general post-trauma malaise

Once Vansis gets tired enough of squatting on the floor, she hauls herself to her feet, wobbles for a moment, and goes to look at the equipment on the table.

The surface of the table is stained but less grimy than she would expect. Her claws leave little scrapes where she grips too hard at it.

Her equipment looks surprisingly intact - battered and stinking of Hive, but intact. She’ll do maintenance on them...later.

She looks at the provisions. Shitty Dusk nutrient paste, but still nutrients. That ether cask should last her weeks with standard ration portions. It’d feed her crew for at least a week. She closes her eyes.

And finally, the thing the Given had put on the table before it left. Vansis turns it over in her upper hands. Hefty. Maybe the length of her hand. Also definitely made for small hands with twice her number of fingers, considering the most conspicuous buttons, clearly meant for regular use, are spaced almost unusably close together.

Vansis’s legs are getting tired again, so she squats down on a chair to examine the device more closely. Feels sturdy. Three visible nozzles, all with different colors and textures. Faint sloshing noise when she gently tips it. Looks weatherproof. Equal signs of wear on all three buttons, the colors and textures on each corresponding to a nozzle - probably indicates regular usage of each nozzle. Colorful decals all over, probably added after manufacturing, since a few have partially peeled off and they don’t seem to match. Very, very faint seams along the edges - likely for maintenance.

Vansis thinks for a second, then takes the device in her lower hands and, pointing the first nozzle - blue - away, carefully presses the matching button.

A powerfully odorous mist sprays into the air, and Vansis lets go of the button in order to cough ferociously. It’s pointing away from her, and it’s still so _loud_ , practically stuffing her mouth with - what even is that scent? She sniffs carefully and nearly coughs her mask off again even as the mask’s filters constrict at the deluge. Whatever it is, it’s strong - but doesn’t seem to be causing damage. The mask’s filters seem to be reacting more to the volume than to possible toxicity, and the mist just settles on the ground and makes the floor look faintly damp.

Vansis squints at the device and presses the violet middle button. An ultrasonic whine comes out of the matching nozzle.

 _Oh_. Vansis boggles at the ultrasonic cleanser. What the hell kind of solvent is the Given using?

It left her a cleanser.

Vansis doesn’t know how to feel about this, so instead, she weighs how much she wants to feel clean with the risk that the solvent _is_ harmful. Not to mention that utterly overpowering scent.

In the end, the desire to smell something other than Hive wins out, and Vansis hastily strips her armor and wrappings off, making sure to be on the _other_ side of the room when she starts spraying the pungent cleanser on her arms, holding her breath as much as she can. The sonics scrubbing her plating feel strong but cleansing, churning the solvent to scour the filth away. Vansis fancies she can see the grime lifting off with every pass of the sonic nozzle.

It’s a good, effective cleanser, but Vansis still runs the sonics over her arms more times than would be strictly necessary even with one of the old shitty cleansers with practically no scrubbing strength that she’s gotten used to bathing with lately, let alone with sonics strong as these.

By the time she sucks the solvent off with the vacuum nozzle, she feels better. Exfoliated, raw, even. Though she could only stomach a couple passes between her legs, her mouth is practically coated with that cloying, sticky scent, and she can’t smell Hive at all.

Her gut is still sloshing, pressing on her insides, but as long as she’s moving, things seem manageable, so she cleanses her armor and wrappings and leaves them on a table to air out. Her banner, she lets hang to hopefully un-stink on its own, because her cape is more ragged than she’d like and that sonic cleanser is _powerful_.

Unwilling to stop moving despite her shaky legs, she wastefully cleanses the seats of the chairs, and then the tabletops. The Given can probably get more solvent, right?

She debates cleaning the windows but decides that there’s a risk of someone seeing her. As far as she knows, only the Given know she’s here, and she wants to keep it that way.

Vansis sits back on her heels, ignoring her trembling knees. She _assumes_ that Given was talking to its command. It didn’t really seem the type to secret some enemy prisoner away without telling anyone, but what does she know?

Fuck it.

Vansis puts her armor back on, cleanses the floor under a table, sucks down a whole tube of nutrients - gluttonous, but right now she doesn’t care - refills her ether supply, and curls up underneath that table with the dagger tucked in her belt, mouth stuffed with the scent of Given solvent. Sleep drags her under. 

* * *

The Wizard presses up against her back. Vansis can’t move again, and there’s nothing she can do as the Wizard presses on her stomach and makes the things stuffing her belly squirm and slosh. Her womb starts to pulse in anticipation, pressure growing behind her plating as she hears the Knights dragging the Given closer, yes, please, she _needs_ -

Vansis jolts awake, all limbs curled in and back pressed to the wall. She can see the Given’s legs, one raised in the air, frozen mid-step.

Her fingers grabbed at her dagger without thinking, and she forces herself to release her grip. The space between her thighs is hot and slick, but at least all she can smell is that solvent.

The Given bends over at the waist, tipping its head once it spots her. They stare at each other.

“<Apology,>” it whispers, almost comedically loud. “<Did not want to wake.>”

“<Whatever,>” Vansis mutters, crawling out from under the table. She stands up too quickly and nearly swoons.

“<I’m fine,>” she snaps at the Given, who’d moved forward _very_ quickly as Vansis had thrown her arms out for balance.

“<Okay,>” it says, meekly.

Vansis keeps two eyes on it as she moves to sit down next to the table, trying to ignore the way her thighs slide past each other. It’s wearing the same serviceable armor, but it looks less grimy now.

It’s staring back at her. “<I go?>” It says suddenly.

“<What?>” Vansis says.

“<You - want, I should go?>”

Vansis stares. “<Uh. N-no, I. You’re good,>” she says blankly.

“<Okay,>” the Given says, and plops down in a chair. It’s much better sized for it.

There’s a pause, and then it fumbles its helmet off.

To distract herself from its piercing red eyes, Vansis retrieves the sonic cleanser. “<...Thanks,>” she says.

The Given blinks, little shutters fluttering over its optics. “??? <Oh! You welcome.>”

“<Strong solvent,>” Vansis comments.

The Given pauses, tilts its chin up and opens its mouth, then, weirdly, ducks its head as its cheek lights flare. “<Oh. Forgot.>”

Vansis sits up straighter, wary. “<Forgot what?>”

“<My - my surfactant?>” There’s a weird tone in its voice. “<Full of scent. Forgot about that.>”

“<Oh. _Ohhh_. >” Vansis says.

It says a word.

“<What?>”

“Bub-ble-gum,” it enunciates. “<Scent> bubblegum.”

“<B->” Vansis frowns. “<BUH-bel. Gum smell.>”

“<Yes! Most,>” The Given says, eyes brightening. “<Uh, can get you different, uh. Cleanser? Instead of my.>”

“<This is your cleanser?>” Vansis looks down at it again.

“<Yes! Look, did embellishment.>”

The decals are brightly colored. They clash very badly with the design of the cleanser. “<You decorated it?>”

“<Yes. You decorated it.>” The Guardian repeats.

“<No, uh,>” Vansis flicks her fingers awkwardly, struck by a weird sense of unreality. “<If _you_ decorated it, it’s ‘I decorated it.’ >”

The Given pauses. “<I decorated it,>” it says decisively.

“<You sure did,>” Vansis says.

They sit in a mildly awkward silence. “<What do I call you?>” Vansis says abruptly. It feels weird to realize she hadn’t thought to ask until now.

The Given blinks again. “<‘Call you’?>” it repeats.

“<Your name,>” Vansis clarifies. “<Um.>” She places a hand over her lungs. “<My name is Vansis.>”

The Given starts and smacks its hand over its lungs with such force as to make its armor clang. “<My name is?>” At Vansis’s affirmative gesture, it continues “<My name is> Bunny-9. Bunny.”

“<BUN-nee. Nyne. Bunny-Nine. Bunny.>” Vansis feels the name on her tongue. She’s definitely not getting the tone right, but the Given is perking up and moving its - their head up and down.

“Van-sis. Vansis,” they say. They’re a lot better at saying Vansis’s name than she is at saying theirs.

“<Yep. That sure is my name.>”

They sit in silence for a little longer.

“Um,” they say, “<Brought - I have brought more ether.>” Beat. “<I mugged one the gold captains.>”

“<Wow.>” Vansis says, at a loss.

“...” says the Given.

Vansis reflexively reaches for her gun to do maintenance, but abruptly remembers who’s here and freezes, hand in the air.

The Given - Bunny? - just looks at her, not seeming particularly alarmed by the fact that she’d just reached for a weapon. Maybe just curious? Keeping her eyes on them, Vansis pulls the rifle onto her lap and starts disassembling it, the motions so familiar as to be boring.

Of course, Vansis thinks, what risk does she pose to a Given, all by her lonesome?

“<Why am I here?>” Vansis asks before she can think better of it.

Bunny tilts their head to the side, makes that noise Vansis is now pretty sure is a confused one. “Uh? <You ask, go far away where, yes?>”

“<Yeah,>” Vansis admits, resolutely shaking Hive ash from the disassembled crevices of the rifle, “<I did.>” She blinks intently at the Given. “<Why did you listen?>”

Bunny opens and closes their mouth. Vansis is briefly absorbed by the flawlessly smooth motion of their jaw, as mechanically perfect as a servitor’s shell. “<Am not...understanding,>” they finally say, optics turning to slits. Confusion?

“<You - you’re a Given,>” Vansis says, brandishing the rifle’s barrel. “<You hunt us, you find where we’re gathering strength and hit us hard.>” She pauses. “<Not that...I really count as that. But,>” she continues, rallying, “<Given’re _opportunists_. Yeah? >” On second thought, this line of argumentation where she states to a Given what Given are like is...maybe not so smart, but she can’t turn around _now_.

“<I - yes?>” Bunny looks more confused. “<Maybe?>”

“<Uh,>” Vansis says, floundering, “<Point - point being. You didn’t really...have a reason to help? At any point?>” She swallows. “<You could have left me with the Hive,>” she points out, feeling ill again.

Bunny makes a short sound. “<That is what my dead person - my Spiritor said,>” they say.

“<...Oh.>” Vansis says.

Bunny twiddles their fingers together, armored digits interweaving and pulling apart. Uncomfortable? “<She was not wrong,>” Bunny says, and their voice is quiet, “<but - I did not want to leave you.>” Their shoulders raise and lower. “<That. Is mostly it.>”

Vansis absorbs this, hands stilled from cleaning the gun. “<...Okay,>” she says. “<But so...when I didn’t want to show up in front of that other crew, you went and brought me here instead of ditching me, or like,>” Vansis shrugs, arms flicking, “<Mercy killing me. I don’t really...get that.>”

Bunny’s shoulders raise and lower again. Is that a shrug? “<Did not want to kill you. You were not trying to hurt me. Wanted to...help? And figure out,>” Their voice falters. “<Figure out what...has happened.>”

Vansis’s stomach lurches. “<Yeah,>” she agrees, the word shaky. “<Makes sense.>”

Bunny’s gauntlets creak, their fingers interlaced. Vansis is alive, and therefore understandably has never had the chance to see a Given up close and clearly - that other Given that’s been stalking her crew never gets closer than rifle range, even if it’s usually holding still. Vansis wonders if they know each other, this Given and that creepy Hunter. Besides the obvious, they don’t seem much alike, but there aren’t _that_ many Given on Titan. Come to think of it, she’d never seen this one before they, eh, met. And Vansis hadn’t ever heard of one on Titan with their description. And the Captain _always_ keeps track of what Given are around.

“<Vansis?>” says the Given, and Vansis tucks that thought away for later. She’s still...not sure how much she wants to take this Given at their word. This is just too odd, too unusual for Given - the only kind of rescue Given have ever provided for eliksni is death. Typical wisdom would be telling her to try to kill the Given at any cost, no matter the likelihood of success since the Given would be trying to kill her eventually anyway, but she knows by now that _that’s_ obviously stupid.

To be fair, it’s not like it really matters. It doesn’t make sense to do anything but cooperate, not if Vansis wants to fix this. The Given is clearly in contact with their command. There’s probably some kind of plan.

“<So what now, then?>” Vansis asks briskly.

“<Uh,>” says Bunny.

“<...Like, what happens next?>” Vansis prompts.

Bunny lifts their shoulders.

“<Are - are you _shrugging_? >”

“<...Yes.>”

“<Wh ->”

“<I do not ->” Bunny waves their hands in circles. “<I do not know! What happen next! Not expert on Hive! _Or_ falling - eliksni! >”

“<Isn’t - aren’t your commanders telling you what to do?>”

“<Told Sloane, that I took you with me,>” Bunny says, haltingly. They look down at their hands, which are clasped in their lap again. “<Still need - still need to write paper.>”

Paper? Vansis mulls this over, then guesses “<Deputy Commander Slohn needs a - a report?>” Her lungs constrict.

Bunny’s shoulders draw up as if they’re trying to retreat into their armor. “<Was not... _angry_ that, I took with me you. She wants to. Know what happened. To know who else, to ask things. >”

Vansis takes a few deep breaths, loosening her grip on the gun. “<Okay. Okay.>” Fuck. Fuck, the thought of people _knowing_ these things makes her breathing tighten, but. Humiliation isn’t going to help, here. She doesn’t know what the ritual’s final purpose was - is. She doesn’t know enough about Hive rituals, had always avoided learning too much, never wanted to end up like that one crazy dreg people talked about on Luna, seduced by the Hive.

A small sound from Bunny. Vansis looks up again.

They seem to be squirming in their seat again - discomfort? - clasping their hands together. “<Do ->” They falter. “<Could...write a report? You do that?>”

It takes Vansis a moment to process, and then she stiffens, muscles twinging. “<What? Why?>” She barks, alarmed.

“<Stuff...happened...before I was at the place,>” Bunny mumbles. “<Might - might help find answer. If they know.>”

It makes sense. It does. Bunny had only gotten dragged in after...after a lot of things had already happened. It makes sense that if the Thieves’ Vanguard is trying to figure out the ritual, they would want more information about it. It - does - make sense, it does -

“<Vansis?>” Comes a quiet voice, and Vansis realizes her lower claws are digging into the seams of her knees. She blinks, and the ether of tears clears from her eyes. Bunny isn’t on the chair anymore, but closer, crouched on the floor and peering up at her - anxious? Concerned?

Vansis looks away. “<I - maybe.>” She croaks. “<Maybe. If I did. How would I write it down?>”

“<Need you do not to,>” Bunny says, who she can see is still watching her intently, out of the corner of her eyes.

“<Yeah.>” Vansis says shortly. “<So?>” She wants to _end_ this. She’s already feeling sick and miserable all the time.

Bunny watches her for a little longer, before delicately saying “<Okay. I will give you tablet, only for chance?>”

“<Alright.>”

“<Okay.>”

“<...I’m gonna finish with my gear now,>” Vansis says.

Bunny moves their head up and down. “<Okay.>” They hesitate, looking around the still-grimy room. “<I will go get things of cleaning?>”

“<Sure,>” Vansis says, something heavy settling in her lungs. She’s going to be here for a while, isn’t she. (Seems polite of Bunny to go get cleaning supplies, though.)

Vansis rubs between her eyes as the airlock door closes behind Bunny. She doesn’t have enough energy to think about this clearly. It won’t help to stew, though, so she moves her heavy hands to scrub the Hive ash out of the rifle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Vansis uses an hydrasonic cleanser that Bunny-9 left for her, takes a not-very-restful nap (complete with unpleasantly damp dream), and talks with Bunny-9, who reveals that Deputy Commander Sloane does know at least some things about the situation, and suggests that Vansis also write a summary of what happened (see the previous fic). Vansis internally acknowledges the use of writing such a report, but is understandably unhappy about the idea of doing so. Bunny-9 goes to get a broom and mop.
> 
> Each and every comment and kudos is cherished!


	4. Chapter 4

The worst part about this shouldn’t be that Vansis is _bored_. Objectively, there are a lot of worse parts.

...But Great Machine, she’s so bored.

There just isn’t that much to _do_ in this room, especially when she gets exhausted far too quickly by movement. There’s always something to do, in a resource-starved crew, even if it’s tedious - maintenance, data analysis, scouting. In a pinch, bickering with or banging her fellow crewmembers is always an option. Here, there’s nothing.

Exercise is mostly out since she can’t even stand for long without getting tired, let alone perching on the walls or the ceiling, even with ample handholds. She’s already taken another shower. She has discovered how to stack the folding chairs, as well as how to fold up the tables. She’s darned the worst of the frayed patches in her cloak, but she doesn’t have enough of the purple-overdyed thread to fix all of it. She’s got a spindle, but nothing to make thread with. Doing maintenance on her weapons more than four times in as many days when she isn’t even using them seems excessive. 

She’s run as many scans on the room as she can with her dinky little comp, and discovered pretty much nothing she couldn’t have guessed - unsurprisingly, most of the pipes lining the walls are either empty or clogged with something unidentifiable, and the walls are mostly metal. There are three simple puzzle games preloaded onto her comp, but they’re not exactly _absorbing_. Cleaning the whole floor with the Given - with Bunny’s cleanser just seems stupid, but she’s quickly getting to the point that she might resort to doing so.

Every time she stops moving, the possibly illusory weight in her womb feels more conspicuous. She doesn’t want to stop moving.

Vansis is crouched against the wall mindlessly matching tiles on her comp when the airlock starts to make that clunking noise. It takes her about six seconds to get to a point where she can save, and another three seconds to realize that maybe when a Given is entering the room, she shouldn’t be worrying about a high score, but by that time Bunny has already walked in.

“<Hello,>” Bunny says.

Vansis blinks, still squatting against the wall. “<...Hi.>”

She never got particularly extensive formal etiquette instruction back in Devils House. Exiles make it a point to do the _opposite_ of formality, which gets, or got, pretty funny when there were a bunch of people with four or more different ideas of what counts as formality. So, not that she generally knows what counts as polite, but she’s especially stumped about how she’s supposed to act towards Bunny. Does it even matter? 

Bunny just looks at Vansis for a second, before moving to one of the tables Vansis had reopened and placing an assortment of engrams atop it. Vansis hesitates, then hauls herself to her feet.

“<...You go scavenging?>” Vansis asks, looking at the little crystals.

“<Huh? No, no, went…>” Bunny visibly hunts for the word. “<...Trading?>”

“<Oh.>” Vansis doesn’t know how to make conversation here.

Bunny, thankfully, starts decrypting the supplies. More ether and nutrient paste. (Why is Bunny getting so much nutrient paste? Vansis can’t possibly eat all of this.) Also a...circular mop? She thinks it’s a mop. The handle is really short - oh, right. It’s Bunny’s size. Also what looks like a broom, maybe. And a...she doesn’t know what that is.

“<What’s that?>”

“<Er...suction. Vacuum?>” 

Huh. Weird looking vacuum cleaner, apparently. “<...Thanks.>” Thanking a Given still feels weird, but not thanking someone who’s doing a lot of unnecessary things for her would feel even weirder.

“<Done gladly.>” Bunny decrypts a few more - including a sonic cleanser. This one’s got bigger buttons, almost the size of Vansis’s fingers, and isn’t decorated at all. 

“< _Thank_ you, >” Vansis says fervently.

Bunny makes a short warbling sound. Vansis can’t parse it, so she ignores it.

This time, when Vansis levers herself to her feet, the wobbling in her knees is manageable. Bunny looks up, and Vansis can now imagine the red of their eyes watching her sway. “<Okay?>” They ask, and it sounds almost cautious.  
  
“<...Yeah,>” Vansis says, equally cautious. Machine, this is all just so _weird_. At least it’s distracting.

The last few engrams pop out of existence to reveal a pile of plastic and...blankets?

“<Under the table,>” Bunny offers, “<Look uncomfortable.>”

“<You’re not wrong.>” Vansis doesn’t know why she keeps being surprised by the consideration the Given - Bunny is showing. But - hell, it’s not like she’s had anywhere particularly comfortable to sleep in months. The berths on the Captain’s skiff or in their camp on Titan aren’t real cozy or anything. This just...doesn’t seem like a priority?

Vansis reaches out to feel one of the blankets, and - oh. Oh, wow, that’s soft. She picks up a corner of the brightly colored fabric to get a better look at it, carefully stretching it between her lower fingers. Looks like a raised pile fabric. A little stretch there, so probably a knit. It’s _really_ plush. 

“<Enjoy it?>” Bunny’s voice startles Vansis out of her absorption, and she realizes she’s been running her upper fingers over the soft cut pile. The Given has taken their helmet off while Vansis was distracted, and they’re watching Vansis intently.

“<Uh,>” Vansis says, feeling her eyes brighten slightly in embarrassment, “<Yeah.>” She hesitates. “<Do you...want me to use it?>”

Bunny blinks. “<Yes, surely!>”

“<Great,>” Vansis says. “<Um, thank you.>” She bows a little, at a loss. Bunny pauses, and bows back, looking back at her - curiously?

This is so strange. Vansis isn’t even sure she’s not experiencing a pre-death Hive hallucination. It seems weird enough to be.

Bunny straightens up and stills, head tilting to the side. “<Uh, I have go, but will I come back?>”

“<...Will you?>” asks Vansis, unable to resist.

Bunny stares, then opens their mouth slightly. “<Oh! Yes. Will I.>”

Vansis coughs. “<Yeah. Um, okay.>”

A brief pause.

“<Okay,>” Bunny says, then puts their helmet back on. “<Um. Goodbye.>”

“<...Bye.>”

* * *

Bunny-9 neglected to mention which of the cleaning supplies was supposed to be used where, but considering that one bottle of solvent has a picture of what looks like flooring, and the other has more varied images, Vansis is pretty sure which one is for use on the floor.

She just wants to distract herself. She just wants to concentrate on anything that isn’t her fucking abdomen or the space between her legs. But Vansis has to stop and sit after stacking the chairs out of the way, and after every span of the floor that she manages to sweep, and again after every span of the floor she manages to mop.

Figuring out the solvent is distracting, struggling to clean with implements that are too short is distracting, getting back into the rhythm of janitorial work is distracting (not that she hasn’t cleaned _anything_ since she was a teenager, but it hasn’t been her _job_ for - what, twelve years?). But every time she has to stop and sit down to control her shaking limbs, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s growing heavier, that her insides are _moving_ -

Vansis forces herself to her feet again.

By the time the floor looks pretty much clean, every limb is aching, her stomach’s roiling with nausea, and she wants to scratch her goddamn plating off. She takes a shower with the new cleanser and the barely-scented solvent to go with it. It helps a little. 

The blankets catch her eye, and she hesitates for only a moment before grabbing the whole pile. And Vansis has to say, curling up in a makeshift nest of blankets under the table feels a lot more steadying than sleeping on the bare floor. When she buries her face in the softest, fluffiest blanket, the overpowering smell of solvent is joined by something that reminds her of ozone, but - less sharp. More pleasant.

Vansis keeps her eyes stubbornly closed, counting every inhale and exhale until consciousness drops away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Vansis is bored. Bunny brings more supplies, and leaves again.
> 
> :3c


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: sex while in an altered state of mind and no one is checking in on anything

It’s warm, so warm. Warm and slick and pulsing and -

Vansis jerks awake, scowling before her eyes are even fully open. Can she not get a few hours of forgetting?

Her lousy mood persists even after washing herself as clean as she can get and refilling her ether feed. There’s still heat beneath the plating between her legs, and the pressure is distracting enough that she can’t even focus on anything else. Bored _and_ stupidly, unwillingly horny.

Vansis has paced the perimeter of the room what feels like countless times and taken a break surely dozens of times before she gives up and drags a blanket out from under the table to wrap around herself and curl up in the corner. She’s made herself into a little bundle by the time the airlock makes the clunking sound which means someone is passing through it. (Kind of funny that all she’s wanted for the past couple of months is the chance to sit down and take a break, and now she’s clawing at the walls with the need to do something, anything.)

“<Hello,>” says Bunny, hovering just inside the door. Uncertain?

“<Hey,>” Vansis says. It’s probably dangerous, the way Vansis can’t manage as much wariness as before. But she’s distracted and irritated by her distraction and weak in the knees and _distracted_.

“<...You are fine?>” Bunny asks (or at least, it seems like a question).

Vansis tries to reply but only manages an inarticulate grunt. It’s too hot with the blanket on, but she needs something to hold her steady, something to keep her from jittering out of her plating. Too damn _hot._

Bunny’s helmet transmats off and they give Vansis a look - critical? worried? - before transmatting their gauntlets off as well and poking through the supplies they’d left earlier.

“<Solvent was okay?>” They ask.

“<Mm,>” Vansis grunts. They can smell that the floor is clean, can’t they? She rouses enough to ask, “<Which one is for the floor?>”

They pause, then point at the bottle with the image of tiles.

“<Good,>” Vansis rests her head on her knees, arms curled in. Something feels _off_ , there’s some dull feeling of anticipation, or maybe foreboding, but Vansis doesn’t know _why_.

“<Vansis?>” She lifts her head to see Bunny watching her. They shake their head side to side briefly, then ask “<What is?>”

“<I’m fine,>” she grumbles, but there’s no conviction behind it.

Bunny seems to hesitate, then puts down the solvent and moves to kneel in front of Vansis. They look smaller like that.

There’s pressure building behind her eyes, and Vansis squeezes them shut, wriggles her upper arms free to clutch at her skull. “<I’m just ->” Her claws scrape over her helmet.

“<Vansis ->” Bunny reaches out for her arm, and Vansis’s attention narrows in on their hand, an inexplicable focus, what’s -

Their hand rests around her wrist. Vansis’s hands relax, falling away from her head, just a little. It lets her look at Bunny’s hand, the matte silver shell over pliable black skin, the finely wrought construction. Their grip is so gentle.

“<Vansis?>” They ask, and their voice wavers, crackles. The heat burns, still, but it’s warm. Pleasant.

Vansis opens her mouth to say something, but words fail her. Her mouth merely parts behind her mask, air going in and out in soft pants.

“<Vansis,>” Bunny repeats, and Vansis shivers, her arms going limp in Bunny’s hands. Their gaze is searingly bright where it flicks back and forth across Vansis’s face as they lean back - only for a moment, because they sway forward again. “<Vansis ->”

_Please,_ Vansis thinks, the heat behind her plating growing unbearably molten, _please, please -_

Bunny’s hands drop her wrists and move unerringly to her neck, hook behind her jaw, and Vansis whimpers, weakened by the spine-melting need under her skin. If she could lean forward, she would, so it’s a good thing that Bunny presses themself close, crouched over her lap, their face nuzzling insistently at her neck. Vansis can feel their mouth moving against her skin, and she _whines_.

“<Ah,>” she gasps as Bunny’s weight pushes her against the wall, her lower arms coming up without thought to clutch at Bunny’s waist. “<Hah ->”

Bunny says something against Vansis’s jaw in Given, their hand sliding around to hold her nape, and the shiver that runs down her spine makes her moan, makes her arch against Bunny’s solidity. Stars, she wants, she wants, she _needs_ -

Vansis’s plating spills open, a shudder wracking her body as her pods twist free, unbearably swollen and wet.

“<Can I ->” Bunny’s voice is pitched low (for them), the sound shivering across her skin. Yes, yes, she wants that, she wants, she clutches harder at Bunny’s armor and whines piteously -

Bunny’s hand drops away from her jaw to fumble between their legs, a faint _click_ heralding their pods unfurling against hers.

“<Oh f ->” Vansis’s head knocks back against the wall, desperate beyond sense.

Bunny says something else, but Vansis is paying absolutely no attention because their pods are twisting together, one twining around each of her pods and the other two sliding around the rim of her pore, stars, please, she can’t _wait_ -

There’s a quiet groan, and Bunny crushes her to the wall, their twined pods filling her pore in one slick movement. The stretch lights her nerves, pulling her rigid before those delicious rubbery pods ripple against the sweet spot just inside the rim of her pore and she arches backward with a strangled cry. So good, so _good_ , a fraction of that endless arousal turned to fuel for waves of bliss that pull her limbs tight around Bunny.

The haze ebbs and a deep, slow ripple from Bunny pulls a long moan from Vansis’s throat. She forces her eyes open, gasps at the strange, hungry nuzzling of Bunny’s mouth on her neck. The sight of Bunny pressed against her, of her own hands hooked into Bunny’s armor, it makes her head spin.

“<Bunny,>” she tries to beg, but her breath won’t let out more than a faint hint of a word. Bunny seems to respond regardless, squeezes her pods with their own as slick spreads between their bodies.

Bunny starts to move in earnest, grinding so hard against her that their pods are practically thrusting in and out. The impact jars Vansis’s hips, cushioned slightly by the blanket, sending little thrills up her spine with every move.

A hard squeeze on her nape and Vansis tips her head up to bare her neck, chest rising and falling with quick, hot breaths. Bunny’s face presses into her throat, mouth moving in strange, unfamiliar, but thoroughly intoxicating ways. Jaws clamp down firmly on the muscle between neck and shoulder and startled arousal sparks through Vansis’s veins hot enough to make her choke.

“<Ah ->” Bunny drives into her once more and grinds, rough and heavy, all their pods stretching Vansis’s pore as they go deeper. “<F - huh ->”

“<Want to - can I ->” Bunny asks, nearly unintelligible as their jaws release and they work their mouth across Vansis’s throat again.

Vansis surges underneath Bunny as an answer, gasping for breath, half-blind with lust. Nothing exists but the wet slickness where their bodies meet and grind, the hands on her nape and her chest, the agonizingly slow and thorough stretching of the lengths in her pore, _stars -!_

One more grind and the friction breaks through the invisible barrier, the frantic pressure giving way to the clenching release she’s been aching for. Vansis can only make strangled, breathless sounds as she shakes against Bunny, as shuddering waves surge up her spine.

She barely has time to relax before Bunny pushes even closer, mouth laving across her throat. Those wickedly pleasurable pods stretch far enough to slide against the sweet bundle of nerves at the furthest point of her pore and send a pure bolt of pleasure from her groin to the base of her skull.

“<Nn - uhn,>” Vansis breathes. Bunny wrings little moans from her throat with every new ripple, every hot, wet motion, it’s so _good_. “ <Nn -!>”

Bunny’s pods pulse rhythmically from root to tip, and Vansis’s head lolls to the side, filled with too much molten lust to keep herself upright. She’s held against the wall anyway, Bunny pushing wave after wave of bliss through her humming veins. Just a little more, just a little more, she thinks, and Bunny’s pods move faster, their hips push closer -

“<Please -!>” she gasps, eyes rolling back as she shakes apart from the inside out, plating rattling against the wall. She’s coming too hard to even breathe, heels scraping against the floor and hands flexing against Bunny’s waist.

Vansis melts back against the wall, eyes fluttering as Bunny grinds harder and harder, the peak barely having a chance to ebb with Bunny drawing this constant, pulsing pleasure out of her. Oh, oh, this is everything she needed so, so badly. She’s held so close, so secure, bliss shivering from her nape to her gut, she’s practically gasping for more.

Deeper, she wants to say, deeper, please, there, right _there_ , and even though the words won’t quite come out of her mouth, Bunny seems to respond, pushing forward onto the balls of their feet to flatten Vansis to the wall.

“<Vansis,>” they mumble into her neck, hips moving against hers in tight, hard circles. Her own pods can’t seem to find Bunny’s grooves, so they’re coiled around Bunny’s lengths instead, squeezing in a clumsy attempt at pumping.

Should she be doing something, she wonders vaguely, is there something she’s wanting to do? Another hot stroke dissipates the thought and sends a hard shiver down her body, scrapes the back of her head against the wall.

Her pods mindlessly follow the reaction of her body, cinching in tight, and Bunny shudders against her, groans in her ear. Their pulsing firms, strengthens - Vansis could fancy that their pods are heating her insides with every stroke, melting and swelling her with unbearable bliss. She moans when Bunny strokes harder, whines when Bunny’s frantic rhythm falters, breathes raggedly when they find the pace again, rolls with the waves of the little almost-climaxes pulsing beneath her skin -

Something flashes in the corner of her eyes. Vansis only realizes this a split-second after it happens - it hadn’t seemed important - because it zips by her shortly before a jarring _clang_ hits her ears. Even that doesn’t entirely distract her - but Bunny rears backward, their hand leaving her neck to clap over the side of their face.

Vansis blinks at them - what - a faintly familiar crackle prickles across her plating, and Vansis feels the hot stupor clear from her head, pushed away by Bunny’s Light.

She and Bunny stare at each other for a moment before Bunny jerks back, pulls their hips away abruptly, tumbles off of her lap. Vansis hisses at the tug - _ow_ \- oh, other hurts are making themselves known, an overworked stinging between her legs and an ache on her neck.

Vansis pulls her stiff legs up to her chest to clasp her arms around them, as if that’s going to help anything.

“???” Bunny says, very quietly, still staring at her. Their eyes are _very_ wide, the red almost blown out to pink.

“<What,>” Vansis croaks. Well. On the positive side, she was absolutely right that the Hive magic clearly wasn’t complete. Haha. Oh, our god.

“<What - what I ->”

Bunny reaches for her, and Vansis cringes reflexively. “< _Don’t_ ,>” she snaps, plating crawling. The effects of the spell must be lingering because part of her wants Bunny to _keep going_.

Their hands freeze mid-air and pull back to their sides in fists. “<Apology,>” Bunny whispers.

“<Accepted,>” Vansis replies shortly. “<Wasn’t technically you.>” Which could be better or worse.

Her limbs feel numb and wired at the same time, rubbery and uncooperative when she rubs a hand over her face. What needs to happen next? What - how does she deal with this? She can’t think clearly for wholly different reasons now, mind running in helpless circles.

“<What do,>” Bunny says, still kneeling an arm’s length away.

“<I don’t _know!_ >” Vansis barks, hand sliding off. “<Go away!>”

“<Will not!>” Bunny shouts, and Vansis bristles, even as she shrinks back on instinct. “<Mean ->” Bunny’s Spiritor is flying little erratic circles, running beams of light over them - ah. That must have been what crashed into Bunny’s head to wake them up. Clever.

“<Tell what I should do you,>” Bunny says, their fingers twisting together.

“<You talk like a fucking idiot.>”

“<Ap-apology?>”

“<Go _away!_ >”

“< _No!_ >”

“<Fine!>” Vansis shouts back. “<Fine! Clot-hole! I’m going to shower, again, and then I’m going back to sleep, and - you can clean the floor if you’re so determined to be a fucking nuisance.>”

While Bunny is visibly parsing that, Vansis wobbles to her feet, the sodden blanket falling to the floor. “<Fuck you,>” she tosses out, for good measure.

It’s probably the most awkward shower she’s ever taken, with a Given shuffling around behind her cleaning the floor. Curling up under the table in a nest of unsoiled blankets is more comforting than she’d thought it’d be. Vansis lies there for a long time, facing the wall, trying to find a position that doesn’t make her hips twinge, until sleep finally swallows her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Vansis and Bunny discover that the breeding spell is still active through direct experience, via Bunny inadvertently triggering its full activation by touching Vansis. Bunny's Ghost startles Bunny by slamming into her face, which triggers Bunny's Light to dissipate the spell (for now). Vansis and Bunny are distressed.
> 
> * * *
> 
> HAPPY FEMSLASH FEBRUARY, THEY'VE FINALLY FUCKED! I figured I'd post chapters four and five together since absolutely nothing happens in chapter four.
> 
> Also, happy belated birthday, Skippy, and so, so many thank-yous to my marvelous betas, Zapper, MonkeysInPants, and BirdyMarie!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated! I can be found on [Dreamwidth](https://schnikeys.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](https://schniggles.tumblr.com/)!


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